


kiss me on my open mouth

by endquestionmark



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: F/M, Rule 63
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-20
Updated: 2012-05-20
Packaged: 2017-11-05 17:27:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409083
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/endquestionmark/pseuds/endquestionmark
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve wants to know how the armor works, so Toni demonstrates.</p>
<p>(Guys, this is basically my id screaming "Go write armor porn!  Go write it!"  So I did.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	kiss me on my open mouth

**Author's Note:**

  * For [100demons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/100demons/gifts).



Steve and Pepper are inside Toni’s penthouse, watching cartoons, when Jarvis informs them of Toni’s arrival. “The armor has been compromised,” he warns, far too dryly for what Steve and Pepper both consider a _dire fucking emergency_.

“Thank you, Jarvis,” Pepper says. “Are we going to need emergency services?”

“I would have called them if they were necessary,” he says, a touch reproachfully. “As it is, the only damage is to the suit, though Ms Toni may be suffering some superficial bruising.”

“Thanks, Jarvis,” Steve says. “I’ll be waiting in the workshop then.”

“I will inform Ms Toni,” Jarvis says, and Pepper sets her glass down on the coffee table. “Want any help?” she says.

“It’s all right,” Steve says, getting up. “I know you hate engine grease, so I’ll take this one.”

“What a sacrifice,” Pepper says, sounding almost as dry as Jarvis. “You’re almost as happy with a wrench in your hand as you are with your shield.”

“Yes ma’am,” Steve says, with a grin, and steps into the elevator. The doors slide closed, and when they open, it’s on the workshop.

Because the workshop is in Stark Tower, it has a gorgeous view; because Toni is Toni, she is currently flying through the giant window. Glass shatters and ends up _everywhere_.

“I actually liked that view,” Steve says.

“It’s still there,” Toni points out. “It’s just a bit closer this way. Anyway, the steering got a bit jammed, and it’s not like Jarvis would have been able to get all of the suit off, so. I skipped the door, what can I say?”

Steve sighs. “Okay,” he says, “get Jarvis to take off whatever bits he can, and then I’ll help out.” He goes to Toni’s workbench and scoops up her box of torx and wrenches, as well as something she only refers to, mystifyingly, as the “screwy things thing”. It sure as hell isn’t a screwdriver.

“Right,” Tony says, wriggling in the suit. The chestpiece is already off, and she stretches her arms above her head and groans. “God,” she says, “remind me to work some sort of breathable cushioning into this.”

“If you continue to move,” Jarvis says, “perhaps you would prefer to remove the suit yourself.”

“Fine,” she grouses. “God, Jarvis, you’re not my mom.”

“On the contrary,” Jarvis says. “I am _in loco parentis_ ,” and talking about parents can only really end badly, so Steve steps up, waving the toolbox.

“Right,” he says. “Jarvis, what can’t you get off?”

“The crural and sural portions of the armor,” Jarvis says, “that is to say, the left lower leg.”

“Show-off,” Toni mutters.

“I learnt it from the best,” Jarvis says, and that’s that, really, so.

Steve kneels at Toni’s feet. “Leg,” he says, pulling at her ankle, and she moves to swing it over his leg, resting it there while he starts to work. The armor is a little charred. “What happened?” he asks curiously. There’s not a lot that can damage the armor anymore.

“Giant robot,” she says, and he nearly drops the wrench. “You didn’t call me?” he asks.

“It was actually a Stark robot,” she says, and if she could look embarrassed, she would be right now. Steve can tell by the way her nose barely twitches. It’s sort of cute, in a strange Toni way. He hoists her leg up a little higher - “Hey!” Toni says, “if you wanted acrobatics, all you had to do was ask” - and goes to work on the plating.

The first layer is the hardest - he has to get to the hidden screws, or whatever they are, because they can only be undone by the screwy things thing, without damaging the layers of air-brakes or jamming the thrusters. Eventually he just digs his fingers under the flaps, levering them up while he undoes the screws.

The next layer is all impact cushioning and gel, and he peels it off, rubbing circles into Toni’s calf through the black undersuit. When he looks up, she’s just staring at him, eyes wide. She licks her lips.

“That’s,” she says, “that’s good, yeah, thanks, that was - good.”

“Good?” Steve says, raising an eyebrow, because if he’s managed to fluster Toni Stark then the end of the world must be around the corner, and he’ll be damned if he’s not going to make the most of it.

“Good,” she says, “yeah. Thanks, Steve.” She sucks in a shaky breath, as if she’s only just remembered.

“You’ll have to show me how the suit works sometime,” he says, “when it isn’t all beat up, I mean. He pats her on the leg. “All done now!”

“Yeah,” she says, “yeah, good,” and suddenly notices that Steve is already halfway to the door. “You’re a fucking tease, Rogers,” she shouts after him, and he grins. “Glad to be of assistance!” he calls back.

++

It takes her less than a day to get the suit back into working condition, after that. _Toni_ , Steve thinks, exasperated. She can do anything on time given proper motivation.

“Steve!” she says, hovering over the balcony. “Steve Steve Steve, guess what?”

“You’ve sorted out world peace,” he says, which is admittedly a low blow.

“No,” she says, pouting. “That was mean. Nope, but I’ve fixed the suit, and guess what?”

“ _What_ ,” he says.

“I’m going to teach you to take it apart,” she says. The faceplate is up, so he can see her grin, which is altogether predatory. He feels it low in his chest, burning. “You need to be familiar with the Mark VII, that’s what I’m going to be using, so.”

“So,” Steve says.

“Workshop,” she says, and drops out of sight.

A moment later there’s the sound of shattering glass, and Steve sighs and turns around to head downstairs.

“So,” Pepper says, pressing her glass of orange juice to one temple, “am I to assume we need a new window for the second time in two days?”

“Yeeaah,” Steve admits.

“Please soundproof the workshop,” she says, heading over to the bar. “I’m going to turn this into a screwdriver and listen to Metallica on as high volume as I can get without bursting my eardrums, okay?”

“Sure,” Steve says, vastly reassured.

“And if you break her heart,” Pepper calls after him, “they will never find your body.”

“I’m pretty sure she would take care of it herself,” Steve says.

“I’m pretty sure she’d still care too much to,” Pepper says, and there’s really no answer to that.

++

“Auxiliary rockets,” Toni says, flexing her wrist. “They slot back into the gauntlet, like -” she shakes her wrist and they click back into place “- so.”

“You compensated for kickback by having them move within the gauntlet,” Steve says, running a finger along the seam between the panels. “It’s gorgeous.”

“Really?” Toni says. “I mean, I think so, but I designed it. Though let’s be fair. Everything I design is gorgeous anyway.”

“Really,” Steve says, pulling a winglet out of the side of the gauntlet. The suit is shut down in all but the most basic weight support, so he can manipulate it as he likes. “It’s beautiful.”

“Look at this,” she says, and gets to her feet.

He watches her face - she mutters a string of numbers and letters, and he’s sure that there’s some Latin in there as well, and then it’s as if the suit comes alive, silver rippling down its seams, turrets lifting and twisting, air-brakes and thrusters folding out and up and then back in again. The winglets twist out and then back, and Steve realizes he’s holding his breath.

“Steve?” she asks, almost hesitant, and he holds up a hand, signaling her to wait, and the armor whirs and clicks and spins its way back into silence.

“All right,” he says, voice a little more breathless than he would like, “come here,” and she clanks over to where he’s sitting on her toolbox and sits down next to him. Steve reaches down to the floor, where the helmet is sitting, and holds it up so she can see.

“Steve,” she says, but he cuts her off, curls a hand around the side of the helmet, strokes it gently with his fingertips, and kisses it on the mouth. He starts out gentle, just the slide of lips on metal, and then presses harder, feeling the slot bruise his mouth, licking into it.

“ _Steve,_ ” Toni says, and Steve pulls back from the helmet, lips tingling and spit-slick. “Oh, god, Steve,” she says, and kisses him hard, biting where the metal bruised, soothing with her tongue. She cradles his head gently, hands still in the gauntlets, tangling in his hair as she licks the taste of metal out of his mouth.

“Not that this isn’t fantastic,” Steve says, when she finally breaks away, licking her lips, “but you need to get out of the armor so you don’t accidentally crush my head.”

“Oh, baby, talk to me dirty,” she says, laughing breathlessly. “Get me out of it, then.”

Steve’s breath catches, because he’s no stranger to _dirty_ , not with Toni around, but this is a whole different type, and he grabs the tools from where they’ve been knocked, all over the floor, scattered.

He gets halfway up her legs, because that is something he has practice with, when she threatens to kick him in the head if he doesn’t move faster, _god, Steve_ , and after that things seem to be going more easily. Maybe Jarvis is doing something with the suit’s infrastructure, but that isn’t really something Steve wants to be thinking about right now, kneeling between Toni’s legs, working at the armor covering her inner thighs.

The armor falls off, and that’s when he notices that she’s completely bypassed her customary undersuit, opting instead for - “Really,” Steve says, pressing two fingers against her black panties. “You couldn’t have just, I don’t know, worked a flap into the suit?”

“So not sexy,” Toni gasps, thrusting against his hand in short, quick rolls of her hips. “Oh my god, Rogers, come on -”

“All right, all right,” he says, and digs his hands under the armor on her outer thighs. “Yes ma’am,” and he presses his forehead to the armor over her belly, breathes out over the black silk, and falls to the ground as she gasps. He pulls her panties down her thighs and licks over her clit, short, sharp flicks of his tongue, and she grabs the edge of the toolbox and squeezes.

“Oh, god, _god_ ,” she says. Steve pulls away a little, licks at the crease of her inner thigh, her folds, and presses his face again to lick his way into her, sweeping his tongue around her cunt, and when she’s swearing and thrusting up against him he pulls back completely and sits up to look her in the eye.

“What,” she says, intelligently. “Why did you stop, oh my god.”

“Tell me how air-brakes work,” he says, licking his lips deliberately. He sees the spark of a challenge in her eyes. “Tell me how they work and I’ll get you off.”

“ _Fuck_ ,” she says, “you want me to explain aerospace engineering to me while you eat me out, _cruel and unusual!_ ”

“Take it as a challenge,” he suggests, and drops back down to his knees.

“Oh, god,” she says, “air-brakes are actually decelerons, which - _Steve_ \- they split in half when -” and she actually breaks off when he curls his tongue hard inside of her, “- when the brakes are activated, and the top half and bottom half go their respective directions _are you fucking happy now_.”

Steve decides that answering would be a waste of his time, so instead he flicks his tongue hard, curling his lips, and when he lets the edge of his teeth brush her she comes apart, shaking and keening, legs locked around his neck.

He licks her through it, and when she halfheartedly kicks him in the back he pulls away and sits up. A disturbed pigeon flaps away from the balcony, which means that Pepper definitely heard them, which means that he probably shouldn’t go upstairs for a while.

“God,” she says, “if I’d known you could do that then I would have explained aerodynamics to you long, long ago.”

He laughs and kisses her, and she licks herself out of his mouth, off his lips, bites along his jawline, and pushes him down on the floor, stepping out of her panties and straddling him. “Your turn,” she says, and moves to strip off the gloves.

“Leave them on,” Steve blurts out, and she raises her eyebrows, smiles at him, slow and hungry.

“You like them?” she asks, licking a long line across the palm, along the base of her thumb. “Steve Rogers, I would not have believed it.”

“I wouldn’t have either,” he confesses, “but, you know, the suit is - you. You’re the suit and you’re you, so.”

“Fine by me,” she says, and looks at the clunky fingers. “But it’s going to be a little more awkward,” she adds, and that, apparently, is why she unzips his pants _with her teeth_.

“That’s a new one,” Steve says, “you’ll have to explain that to me too,” and she laughs and lifts his hips to push his jeans and underwear down to his knees.

“I’ll do better,” she says, “I’ll demonstrate,” and she takes him in her hand, strokes as gently as she can. The gloves are still cold, still metal, and they probably have a million sharp edges, but she knows what she’s doing, and it isn’t long before Steve is thrusting up into her hand.

“Toni,” he says, “please, really -”

“Should I make you explain the composition of your shield to me?” she muses. “What about the process through which a bill becomes law?”

“Oh my god,” Steve says, “no, please, you’re right, it was a bit cruel, but _please_ -” and she laughs and sinks down on him, and it’s wet and hot and god, he can’t stop himself from rolling his hips up into her and gasping.

“I could ask you to name Supreme Court justices,” she says, “but I really don’t want to hear about Scalia right now,” and he kisses her almost as self-defence, because she’s almost babbling now as she rises up on her knees and slams back down hard.

This time, she gasps, as he pushes himself upright, one hand supporting himself on the toolbox and the other going around her shoulders, and she scrabbles at his shoulders, rides him hard, gasping as he thrusts up to meet her. 

Steve presses hard kisses to her collarbone, to her throat, and growls when the gloves scrape at his back; she bites at his shoulder and slams down again hard and comes again, tightening around him, gloves in a death grip around his arms, and he thinks of the bruises they’ll leave, of the scratches on his back and the bite mark on his shoulder, and comes hard, hips snapping, a hand pressed tight into her shoulder.

She slumps against him, chest heaving (she’d laugh at him for thinking it), and he slumps back to the floor, slipping out of her. She reaches down to rub between her legs absently, at the mess they’ve made. “Sorry,” Steve says halfheartedly, “I can get you tissues, or..”

“Or you could eat it out of me,” she says lazily. “Don’t worry, you can make it up to me,” and that startles a laugh out of him. “Maybe later,” he says, “because I’m pretty sure a screwdriver is trying to bore into my kidney.”

“That’s not sexy at all,” she says.

“You know what isn’t sexy?” he says. “What Pepper is going to do to me once we get back upstairs.”

“She’s heard much worse,” Toni admits, drawing lazy circles on his chest. “Oh, look, a bite mark.”

“ _Your_ bite mark,” Steve says.

“Raaghr,” Toni says, baring her teeth at him, and he laughs again, there on the cold concrete floor.

The window is still broken; it’s probably just as well they’re on the hundredth-odd floor. “Fine,” Tony says, startling Steve out of his vague afterglow. “I’ll suit up, we can go get her another pair of Louboutins, there’s bound to be something that’ll keep her from killing you.”

“And you,” Steve says, “I mean, I wasn’t the loud one.”

“Not yet,” Toni says, and Steve can’t quite tell if it’s a threat or a promise, but then that’s Toni right there.

“You suit up,” he says.

“You help,” she says, which is why they don’t actually leave the workshop for another two hours.

++

“Ms Potts,” Jarvis says, “they have gone.”

“Thank god,” Pepper says, halfway through her third cup of coffee, and takes off her headphones.

“Do you have any suggestions regarding recompense?”

“Nude Bianca pumps would not go amiss,” she says, “and please tell them that I refuse to clean up the workshop.”

“No need, Pep,” Toni says, because she’s gone and taken control of the comm, which is just like her. “We’ll be - making use of it.”

“Oh my god,” Pepper says, “stop talking now, please and thank you,” and Toni laughs until Pepper cuts off the comm and goes to finish her coffee, smiling, and asks Jarvis to order a new pane of glass for the window, again, and to make it a weekly order.

She has a feeling they’ll need it.

**Author's Note:**

> So this work does contain the word "cunt", though not as a gendered insult, because it's a fucking fantastic word in every other sense.
> 
> Also, this basically exists because of Plath, which should be a common refrain by now, but still. Plath, why do you do what you do to me. Why.


End file.
